I remember this visit well. Tammy was really too young to travel, but we made the trip anyway. I recall thinking I'd rather come up and visit Grandma now than attend her funeral in a few weeks.

At this stage of the disease, Grandma couldn't speak, so she communicated in writing. Instead of going through reams of paper, Dad thought to get her a "magic slate" similar to this one for sale at Amazon.com. It's the kind of inexpensive kid's toy where you write with a plastic or wooden stylus on film covering black waxed background. When you are through with one message, you lift up the film to erase the previous message. That was high-tech texting circa 1972.

I remember arriving at Dad's home, finding Grandma sitting in a chair. She had tears in her eyes and was very excited to see her great-granddaughter Tammy for the first time. We "talked" back and forth. Grandma recalled how I had once made a disparaging remark about going to Redondo Beach house of one of Dad's cousins when it would just be Grandma, Uncle Harley and Aunt Grace Butler, and ???. I had hoped my young cousins would be there, and in despair I said "I don't want to be with all those old people!" Now all I do is hang out with "old people" as I study the lives of ancestors who've long since passed into the great beyond. Of all the things to remember me by, Grandma!

After about 45 minutes, I asked Grandma if she wanted to hold tiny Tammy. She wrote on her slate "I couldn't, I don't want to drop her." I said no problem, and placed the baby in Grandma's lap, and knelt by her as we both cried at the miracle little baby girl.

Grandma soon tired, and Dad all but carried her to her room. We had to return for my husband's work, but were staying the night in Tukwilla, the home of my maternal grandmother Frances Irene (Goering) Froman McDonnell. Little did I know that this trip from Salt Lake City to Seattle would be the last time I'd see both grandmothers. Grandma Myrtle died 28 September 1972, and Grandma Frances died 12 Jan 1974.

You can imagine this scanning project has meant an uptick in the use of Kleenix at our house. Nostalgia does seem to make one's "allergies" act up.